Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
That damn British accent is still sexy as hell, too, and I hope there’s not going to be a lot of conversation tonight. I’m in sensory overload.
“Not another scotch?” the woman purrs with her hand to his chest as she leans into him.
He shakes his head, then glances at me. “Want something to drink?”
“I’m good.”
Kynan’s eyes dip briefly to my throat. He’d have to be blind not to notice the bruising, but I don’t see so much as a facial tick from him. His expression stays as bland as unbuttered grits.
The redhead sashays off, neither bothering to make any introductions. Briefly, I watch her swaying hips while she makes her way over to a recessed wet bar built into one wall before I turn back to Kynan. I swallow to wet my throat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be barging in like this and interrupting your time with your girlfriend. I can go to a hotel, and we can meet in your office tomorrow.”
Both Kynan and the woman give simultaneous snorts of amusement, but she’s the one who responds. “Oh, I’m not his girlfriend.”
Confused, I look back and forth between them.
Kynan just shrugs. “We met this afternoon.”
“Oh,” I say softly, the implication hitting me. I’m not shocked over a one-night stand because there’s nothing wrong with a little fun, but why in the world did he have Rachel bring me here?
“We met at The Wicked Horse,” the woman adds conversationally. “I was getting flogged in the stocks, and Kynan rescued me. Whisked me off to this luxurious mansion for an evening of fun.”
I blink stupidly, trying to process the strange sentences. “I’m sorry. The Wicked Horse?”
“It’s a sex club I belong to,” Kynan replies offhandedly on his way to a sumptuous-looking armchair. He drops down with elegant grace, then motions toward the couch to indicate I should take a seat.
Now I’m shocked. So much so I’m rooted to the spot. “Sex club?”
“Oh, don’t sound so boorish, Joslyn,” Kynan chastises in that godforsaken hot British accent. “You should give kink a try. You would have no shortage of movie stars and rock gods lining up for you.”
Heat creeps up my neck, and I’m rendered speechless. A glass of club soda in her hand, the woman saunters over to Kynan. She settles right on his lap. When his hand goes between her legs, my entire body freezes.
And I don’t mean to squeeze her thigh or give her a quick caress.
Nope, he slides it right to her core. While the hem of her robe covers what he’s doing, it’s obvious it must feel good because her eyes roll back in her head, which then lolls on his shoulder. Her legs begin to fall open, obviously wanting to give him better access. I jerk my eyes to his face just in time to catch his smirk as he watches me closely for a reaction.
I spin away, mortified and equally pissed off. It’s clear he’s intentionally doing this to make me uncomfortable. I start for the door, unwilling to stand for whatever he’s trying to prove.
“Stay,” he commands and for a moment, I almost obey him. That voice of his… all cultured but incredibly arrogant and demanding. I used to obey him a lot when it came to sex, but I chalk that up to the fact I was just oh so young when we were together.
I’m not young and naïve anymore, so I keep walking.
I make it to the foyer before he calls out, “Walk out that door, Joslyn, and you know your life is in danger. Your psychopath could be out there right now.”
They are the right words.
I freeze, feeling my shoulders slump in resignation and complete helplessness. Tears prick at my eyes, and I furiously blink them back.
Resignation fills me. Not only am I in a no-win situation right now, but I’m also going to have to accept I’ll be forced to pay more than just money to get Kynan’s help. As a means to make me repent for the wrongs he perceives I did to him, it’s obvious he’s going to humiliate me first by making me stay while he gets the woman off.
But to my surprise, he addresses the woman, “We’re going to need to call it a night, love. Go get your clothes on, then call yourself a cab or an Uber. I’ve got some money in my wallet to pay for it. It’s on the dresser.”
“Sure thing,” she replies. After, there’s only the sound of kissing, moaning, and a deep groan from Kynan. I can only imagine what she’s doing to him, but I refuse to turn around.
Only when I hear the woman’s soft steps on the staircase do I give my attention to Kynan again.
“Take a seat,” he says with a nod at the couch.
My walk is slow and measured. There’s a slight limp I can’t quite cover up because I banged my knee so hard when I was tackled to the floor last night. My entire body is covered in bruises from the fight that ensued as he tried to roll me over. I thought he was going to rape me, but he merely put his hands around my throat and started to choke the life out of me.